Work Of A Fairy
by Moxified
Summary: First she was a Muggle, then she was a Muggleborn, then she was Brightest Witch of her Age, then she was Undesirable Number 2, then she died (but not really), then she was half-fairy half-witch, then she was an Auror, and now she's babysitting Newt Scamander, Magizoologist. Maybe it's true what they said about Gryffindors; trouble would find them in any way.


**Chapter One**

**May 2, 1998**

The smell of blood and magic permeated the air, curses weaving through space as a willowy figure went unnoticed on the battlefield that was the castle grounds. Around her, the fighting was in the thick of it, and at her feet, bodies lay, some twitching some stone still. She wondered why it was that wizards seemed to find themselves in the same situation over and over again. Kinslaying was a crime among her people, how was it that these folk could curse one another to death so easily?

Her eyes fell on the outskirts of the battle field, where a young girl was fending off a Death Eater who had done away with his mask to reveal glinting black eyes and a menacing sneer. The girl was wavering, her shield trembling under the amount of curses being shot at her.

A bolt of anger shot through her own body at the sight, and a wave of her arm yielded the man flat on his back, unbreathing. The girl looked around in confusion, only to come face to face with her saviour, who waved her hand again, rendering her unconscious.

The stranger began casting quickly, ignoring the sounds of battle around her as she put up a powerful Notice-Me-Not, effectively hiding them from view. She held a lock of hair in her hands moments later, muttering an enchantment under her breath.

A pile of leaves began to clump together at her feet to form a vaguely human outline, and the lock of hair fell into the middle of it. Still chanting under her breath, she siphoned a trickle of blood from the young girl's wounded brow and let it trickle onto the pile, watching in satisfaction as it transfigured into an exact replica of the sleeping girl's body.

With a nod of approval, Ondine took her daughter's limp body in her arms and stepped into the waiting portal.

* * *

**July 19, 1926**

Finding out she had been in a coma for two months had been nerve wracking for Hermione Granger. Finding out she had woken up in 1926 had been like a hippogriff had snatched her by the collar and took her for a spin. Finding out she was adopted, and part fairy as well, had sent her back into unconsciousness for another two days.

It had been a week now, and she was only just beginning to wrap her mind around everything. Her _mother _had saved her from imminent death during the battle. Her mother _who was a Seelie fairy_ had saved her because she had had a vision about it happening. Which was why she had been sent to the future in the first place and left in the care of Dr and Dr Granger.

Hermione would've laughed at it all if it wasn't so real. Let's also not forget that her father was an _Avery_, who in her time had been quite the notorious Death Eater, had even tried torturing her once or twice. He assured her that he had stepped back from his family, given no choice when he had informed them that he had fallen in love with her mother, the only thing left he had from his House was his last name and his inheritance - given to him by a great uncle or some other that had taken pity on him.

She had believed him, how could she not? This man who claimed to be her father played the part rather well, with his kind eyes that looked too much like her own, and his soft smile whenever he caught her observing him as he sat by her bedside to tend to her. She was on the mend, he said, but laying on a bed for two months had repercussions, which she discovered the moment she'd tried standing up on her own.

Atlas Avery, her _father_, was a Ministry official, Deputy Head of the Department of Foreign Affairs, a terribly convenient position when your daughter was a time traveler. Her official story was that she attended Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts because it the discrimination in the continent towards sentient magical creatures was significantly less than that in the United Kingdom.

Ondine was an Unspeakable - one of the few fairies assigned by the Seelie court to help the Ministry in their research of all things unknown and magical - which was how she was able to send Hermione forward. They answered all her questions, leaving the biggest one for last. "_Why?"_ she finally said, brows scrunching up in confusion.

"We didn't want to, darling." her father said, wincing when she flinched away from his touch - she needed to work on that, the guilt that crept up in her throat every time that disappointed look crossed his face was enough to make her sick.

"It was because of me." Ondine admitted, smiling sadly. "The day you were born, a prophecy appeared in the Department of Mysteries with _your_ name on it. I broke a few rules by bringing you down there so I could hear it. It was short, concise, very different from other prophecies I'd heard. It was almost like a set of instructions. _A child of the fey and wizardkind, born seventy years before her time, sent forward by the sand, cradled in her mother's hands. To muggles given, and muggles raised, a friend to help the Chosen save. And on the second of the fifth, will she return to her time to live._

"I followed it, but not before I researched everything. The Unspeakables had been testing time travel for years then, and had only just perfected going forward. I scried several times, with your father watching over me and the same events came up. You befriending the Potter boy, fighting alongside him, getting - getting _tortured_, oh, Aine, my darling if I could have done _anything _to stop it -"

"It's alright." Hermione said, resting a hand on her mother's trembling fingers, "It's done. I barely feel anything anymore."

"You must understand, Aine," her father smiled sadly at the discomfort on her face when he used her real name, "We had little choice. It was either you or the rest of the world. And we wanted to be selfish, we did, but the person who heard the prophecy would not let us."

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously at that, "Who did you say it was, again?"

Ondine sighed, "Albus Dumbledore."

"Why am I not surprised?" she huffed, an incredulous laugh escaping her lips. "That man has meddled too much for his own good."

"He wants to see you, when you're ready." Atlas said, a frown marring his kind features.

She sighed heavily, "Best not make him wait, then. I'll see him tomorrow."

"Aine, it's been only a week since you've woken up, surely it can wait-" her mother's fussing was stopped by Hermione's firm no.

"I'm fine." she said reassuringly, "I've been through worse, and I'm already bored out of my mind. If Dumbledore has something to occupy my time, that would be welcome."

"Don't expect what he asks of you to be easy, dear." Atlas warned, making her laugh.

"It never is."

Her parents left her with her thoughts. It was quite a lot to process in so little time, and her heart hurt just as much as her head did. What had happened to Harry and Ron? They thought she was dead, And of the Grangers? Even though they weren't her real parents, she'd just sent them off to Australia with no idea that they had had a daughter at all. It was all such a big mess.

* * *

As it turns out, Dumbledore's task for her had been relatively quick compared to everything he'd set her and her friends out to do. She was surprised by it, but not intimidated. After he'd welcomed her back into 1926 and apologized for the _distress_ she'd gone through, he had asked her to sign up for Auror training, after she'd taken her NEWTs of course. That very same day, she sat down to take them, and her scores could have been better, if she was honest, the E in Potions irked her. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't practiced brewing in over a year.

But they were far more acceptable than any applicants' it seemed, because she was accepted into the program immediately. The training was a month long, and the group of fifteen was mostly comprised of men who had jeered at her on the first day. She'd been the last to enter the holding room, dressed in a black pinstriped suit tailored to fit her figure, long curls tied back in a pony tail, and they'd all thought she was a secretary of some sort. When she had stepped in line alongside them, they had jokingly asked if she was lost.

Until Theseus Scamander stepped into the room, of course. His presence was comparable to that of Kingsley Shacklebolt's, intimidating, because he was one of the best Aurors in the department, and their trainer and of course, he was a war hero. But she was one as well, and she had no risk of emasculating herself because, well, she had nothing to emasculate.

"Ah, Miss Avery, highest marks the department's seen in a long time." Theseus said as he stepped towards her, "What are you doing with this sorry lot, Avery? Your test scores would land you a deputy position in Magical Law Enforcement in a blink."

"A desk job's too boring." she smirked, knowing that she had to show these men that she was not one to be pushed.

"Alright then, Avery." Theseus said, tossing the trainee files onto a desk, "Since you've got the highest NEWTs for Defense, you've just volunteered yourself for the first duelling match of the day. Consider it a test of skill, if you will."

She nodded, popping her shoulders while she summoned her wand from its holster. "Who am I up against, sir?"

At that, the Auror grinned, "Me, of course."

Hermione quickly found out that the duelling techniques of the 20's were outdated and sloppy, and that no one had yet perfected the art of meshing an offensive spell with a defensive spell, all while keeping a shield up nonverbally. It seemed as if it wasn't popular to use muggle techniques of fighting either.

So when she swept his legs with a swift kick after blinding him temporarily with a _Lumos_, the rest of the room looked on in shock as the famed war hero fell on his back, the witch's wand trained on his neck, on the receiving end of a triumphant smirk. Hermione threw his wand at his chest and offered her free hand to help him up.

"Now _that's_ what I call fighting!" Theseus barked, apparently not too annoyed at being bested by a female trainee. "You gits best learn from Avery! Did you see that! Avery, show us again how you layered that Slicing hex with a Protego!"

That being said, Hermione graduated from training in no time. Her warding and tracking skills were top notch from being on the run, her duelling was undefeated thanks to battle, and because she gobbled up books like a hungry hippogriff, she was an ace investigator. And her fellow trainees were far from her friends because of it. Some of them had tried asking her out at the start, thinking that it would distract her, a few had actually resorted to pranking her, and the rest just let her be. It was Theseus that was the biggest pain to deal with. The man couldn't take a hint to save his life.

Almost immediately after she'd graduated from training, he began flirting with her during meetings and conjuring flowers out of her notes. He probably assumed she didn't know he was doing the exact same thing with the Lestrange girl from Magical Law Enforcement.

Hermione shuddered at the thought. Leta Lestrange was a witch she saw sometimes around the Ministry, she was pretty, more so than Bellatrix, and she didn't have the crazed glint in her eye that spelled torture, but the name never failed to bring her unease.

"Good morning, Aine." a voice drawled next to her.

Hermione released a tired sigh, setting down her files on top of her desk before she turned around, "Good morning, Mr Scamander, and it's Miss Avery, thank you very much."

"Oh, come now, Aine, hasn't our friendship evolved enough for us to use our given names?" this berk probably thought that the grin he was giving her was charming.

"We've known each other for the grand sum of five months, Scamander." she said, rolling her eyes, "It's Avery to you."

"Hey, Aine, there's been a disturbance near the muggle parliament, some wizard trying to levitate one ofe those hats from a palace guard. We've been assigned to check it out."

She nodded, "I'll meet you by the Floo, Gawain."

"Now why does Urqhart get to call you Aine?" Theseus frowned, watching the wizard go.

"Because he's my partner." she said flatly, "And because he doesn't annoy me, now if you don't mind, I have to go."

She brushed past him quickly, thankful for the interruption. He heels clacked on the Ministry floor as she made her way to Gawain, who was waiting by one of the fires.

"You know, he isn't going to let up on you until you hex him in the arse." the Welshman teased.

"He's my superior, I'd be facing an inquiry if I ever did that to him." she said, "Besides, I think the git would like it."

Her partner roared with laughter just as he stepped into the Floo.

* * *

**December 5, 1926**

"Why do I have to do this, Professor?" she asked as she stepped out of the Floo and into Albus Dumbledore's office.

"How many times have I told you to call me Albus, Miss Avery?" Dumbledore admonished.

"That not the issue here." she muttered, "Now explain to me why I suddenly have to go to New York under the guise of investigating a magical creature smuggling cartel. Your seat on the Wizengamot gives you too much reign within the Ministry, Albus."

"Well, obviously you've surmised that the smugglers are made up." Albus smiled, "A former student of mine is making his way to New York as we speak from Equatorial Guinea, carrying with him a suitcase full of magical creatures."

"And you want me to what? Catch him? Magical creatures aren't as accepted in the States than they are here, you know."

"No," Dumbledore said, "I want you to keep an eye on him. Newt can be clumsy, at best, and his accidents have proved to be rather disastrous many times over."

"Newt?" she echoed, "Do you mean _Newt Scamander_?"

"Yes, I take it you know him?" the professor had begun rummaging through his desk drawers, looking for something.

"He's rather popular where I'm from." she deadpanned, "I can't believe you're signing me up to another Scamander, I already have to deal with his brother."

"Newt isn't as, well, _abrasive, _as Theseus. I think you'd rather like him." said Dumbledore, holding out his hand where a frayed quill lay in his palm. "This is your Portkey. It's set to leave tomorrow at noon. You'll be arriving in New York at seven in the morning. Here are the keys to an apartment in front of that lovely park they have. A friend of mine agreed to loan it to me for a few weeks. You're to drop your things and report to the MACUSA at eight to register yourself with Percival Graves, the Head Auror. When you're finished, find Newt and ensure that he doesn't get up to any trouble."

Hermione sighed, seeing no way to refuse. "You'll hear from my mother soon I think, sending out her daughter across the pond when she just me back."

"Ah, Ondine will understand." the man said, smiling.

"You really don't know her, then." she said. "I'll come see you when I get back. Shall I deliver you magizoologist to you as well?"

"If you please, Aine, I'd be very grateful."

"Good night, Professor." she called.

* * *

**December 6, 1926**

International Portkey travel was _uncomfortable_, to say the least, about ten times worse than a normal Portkey. As she landed heavily on her heel-clad feet, the quill in her hand glowed brightly and disintegrated. She found herself facing a tall brownstone building, the entrance a pair of revolving doors. She was glad she took the time to cast a Notice-MeoNot charm before leaving, because even so early in the morning, New York City was already bustling with life. She ended the charm before stepping inside, smiling at the man behind the desk.

"Good Morning, My name's Aine Avery, I'm Ranulf's guest?" she said, setting down her bags. To keep appearances with the muggles, she had refrained from shrinking them.

"Ah, yes, Mr Trescott rang just yesterday." said the man, "Can I help you with your bags?"

"No, it's quite alright." she said with a polite smile, "Which way is the apartment?"

"Take the elevator to the fifth floor. You'll have to forgive Mr Trescott if it's in disarray, he's been gone for months."

"That's not a problem. Thank you very much, Mr?"

"White, Ma'am." said the man.

"Mr White." she smiled. "I'll just be dropping my bags. I have a meeting in an hour and I'd like to walk there. It's my first time in New York."

"I hope you enjoy it, Ma'am." White grinned, before she entered the elevator.

The apartment surprised her. Dumbledore's friend must be very wealthy to afford it. There were about four rooms and two bathrooms, a large seating area, a dining room, and a kitchen. The place looked as if Mr Trescott barely used it. But it was clean. She supposed the wizard had a house elf to mind his home while he was gone.

She quickly transfigured her suitcase back into her handbag - a small leather one this time. She didn't really need to leave anything, but she knew where she was staying now. After a quick change of clothes - her skirt had gotten rumpled on the journey, she made her way back down, clad in a Slytherin green set, the pants tapering along her ankles, and a pair of black heeled boots, it was already half past seven.

"Goodbye, Mr White!" she called as she slipped her black coat on.

Hermione winced almost as soon as she stepped outside. Honestly, how could she walk in such crowded streets? Succumbing to temptation she hailed a cab.

"Where to, lady?" asked the driver brusquely.

"Woolworth building, please." before she even finished speaking, they were off.

Hermione had never been in such a dangerous ride in all her life - and she had flown on the back of a dragon! "Sir, you really should drive with more caution."

"Yeah, yeah, and you should mind your own business." he snapped, grabbing the cash she was holding out, practically shoving her out the door.

"The nerve!" she huffed, standing on the sidewalk to face the magnificent looking building. It really was a wonder. For all their drama about being separate from muggles, the building did not hide at all.

Showing her Auror's badge, she was led to a help desk, where she had to wait until a pretty girl with auburn hair led her to an elevator. "You're on the third floor. You'll wanna take a left, then another left, and then a right. Mr Graves will be waiting for you."

Hermione nodded, in the middle of saying thank you when the lift surged up. "Oof!" she let out, glaring at the goblin manning the lift.

"Sorry, the buttons are iffy." he said, not looking very apologetic at all. This really wasn't turning out to be a good day.

She followed the girl's instructions and happened upon a set of wide wooden doors that looked terribly daunting. A quick freshening charm was cast before rapping her knuckles against the wood. The doors opened on the third knock, revealing a dashing, middle aged man sitting on a desk in the middle of the room. He stood as she approached. His hair reminded her of Harry's, though just more coiffed.

"Good morning, Mr Graves, I'm Auror Avery, from the British Ministry." she said, shaking the man's hand. He eyes her up and down, taking note of every inch of her.

"Yes, you're the one they sent for the Irish smugglers, am I right?" he waited for her to nod in reply.

"Well, it seems as though you've been briefed well enough, and your track record is impeccable for a newbie. Guess that's why they sent you overseas, huh?" there was a glint in his eye that raised the hair on the back of her neck but she pushed that aside.

"I believe it's their form of hazing." she grinned, the lie falling off her lips naturally, "The boys have been waiting for me to fail since I started."

"Well, I hope that doesn't happen here." Graves grinned, "The last we saw of the smugglers, they were on their way to Philadelphia, something about a deal with a Potioneer looking for mermaid tears."

"I'll be sure to get on with it, then, sir." she said.

"You've had your wand registered?"

"I'll be doing that after this sir, as well as having my Magical signature listed."

"Very well." Graves said, nodding once, "You'd better be on your way, then. Good luck, Auror Avery."

"Thank you, sir." she said, standing to leave. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Graves."

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Avery." said the man, twisting her outstretched hand to kiss the back of it, instead of a handshake.

_Ugh, what was it with men in the 1920's?_

By the time she stepped back out to the New York streets, it was a quarter past ten. Ducking behind an alley, Hermione spies a wizard and witch who had left Woolworths a few moments before her. The wizard had a head of hair a few shades darker than the Weasley's and was carrying a case along with him, clutching it as if it held gemstones in it. The man looked backwards, and her eyes narrowed on his features.

She only had a school picture provided by Dumbledore to go by, but there was no mistaking this man was Newt Scamander. Hermione followed the pair, staying several metres behind them to avoid raising suspicion. Her job was to watch over him after all.

Hermione cursed under her breath when she followed the pair into a large crowd gathering in front of the ruins of several buildings. A billywig hovered above the crowd, zooming through the air, its sapphire blue coloring making it look like a butterfly. _Merlin_, Dumbledore wasn't kidding when he said Scamander was a clutz. She watched Newt cast a Confundus on a man complaining to a police officer, and followed him, and the frantic looking witch into one of the semi-collapsed buildings.

She stood against the wall, listening to the witch fuss, when she heard her start screaming, Hermione stepped in, catching a Murtlap right before its jaws would've clamped onto her face. Glad that she'd slipped on a pair of dragonhide gloves, she tickled the creature on its hairless chin, successfully calming it down with the touch.

"What is that?" shrieked the witch, Tina, Scamander had called her, "and who are you?!"

Hermione smiled softly at the Murtlap, "This is a Murtlap, and I'm Auror Aine Avery, at your service. And I'm sure you'll be in need of it, given the mess you've gotten yourselves into."

She handed the little beast to the magizoologist to keep, "There you go, Mr Scamander, see that he doesn't escape again."

"Oh, dear, we'll have to see to that at once." she said, turning the man's neck to observe the bite, "It hasn't festered yet, so a little dittany will do the trick."

"Dittany won't work. It'll close the wound, but not flush the venom out." said the wizard, eyeing her nervously.

"Yes, but if he ingests it, it acts as an anti-venom." she informed matter of factly, "No matter, he has some time before more symptoms appear, we have to get out of here soon."

"I'm sorry, do you know each other?" Tina asked, eyeing the two of them in confusion.

"Nope," Hermione said, propping the muggle up, "but a mutual friend of ours sends his regards. Now do you have a place where we can go or should I Apparate us all to my flat?"

"No, these guys are coming with me." said Tina authoritatively, which Hermione let slide, "This is my case, and I'm bringing you in once we have all your creatures locked up."

Hermione frowned at that but didn't argue, pausing instead to adjust the muggle's tie. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

They Apparated onto an empty street, Hermione following behind the three of them. The muggle's name was Jacob Kowalski, and the American was Tina Goldstein, ex-Auror. No wonder she was so frosty. Goldstein led them to her flat, carefully, since she wasn't allowed male guests, which Hermione found absurd.

"Teenie, you brought men home." said a beautiful blonde witch. She looked to be in the middle of mending a dress.

"This is my sister, Queenie." Tina sighed, "Wanna put some clothes on, Queenie?"

Hermione looked around while Kowalski gaped at the blonde while she changed. It was a big enough apartment for the two of them, a pair of knitting needles were working busily on a sofa. She ran her hands over the finished product while Tina introduced them, it seemed Queenie was much better at knitting than Hermione was.

"And that's Auror Avery."

"A lady Auror? Teenie, just like you! Except, well, not." said the blonde rather ditzily.

"Oh, you need to sit down, honey!" exclaimed Queenie, as Kowalski slumped onto a sofa, "He hasn't eaten anything all day! And - oh that's rough; he didn't get the money he wanted for his bakery. You bake honey?"

"You're a Legilimens." Newt said, making Hermione freeze, eyes widening before hastily building up her Occlumency walls.

"Yeah! But I always have trouble with your kind, Brits, it's the accent." she looked at Newt and Hermione, head cocking to the side when her eyes landed on Hermione, "Oh, you're an Occlumens."

Hermione felt a soft nudge at the back of her mind and tensed, "Please don't go digging around in there." she said sharply, "You won't like much of what's in it."

"Uhm, you - you know how to read minds?" Kowalski stuttered, while Scamander paused to stare at Hermione.

She avoided his gaze, choosing instead to look out the window, "Is that Billywig yours, Mr Scamander?" she asked, pushing the curtains aside.

The man didn't answer, instead he very slowly tried to make for the doors. Hermione smirked in amusement, pressing her wand to his chest, "Sit down, Scamander, we'll collect your creatures later."

The wizard glanced down at her wand in surprise, before his gaze trailed to her her hands, seeing the gloves, he glared at her angrily, making her laugh.

"Don't worry," she said, knowingly, "The scales were taken with permission. A good friend of mine's a dragon tamer in Romania. These were a Christmas gift."

Newt looked away, embarrassment filling his cheeks.

"Sit down, Scamander." she ordered under her breath, "These nice ladies are making us dinner. It would be impolite to just leave, wouldn't it?"

The man jerkily took a seat besides Kowalski while Hermione sat beside Queenie, Tina on one end while Queenie finished up the strudel she's made for Kowalski.

"So, Miss Avery, why were you following us?" Tina asked after Queenie finished her tangent about their lives over dessert.

"I was assigned to Mr Scamander on a secret assignment to make sure he didn't get up to trouble." she said, after taking a sip of wine, grinning at the guilty look on the mans face, "It seems I didn't arrive early enough. I was speaking with Mr Graves while you were busy wreaking havoc at the bank."

"Why would you have an audience with the Head Auror for a simple job?" Tina asked, eyes narrowed.

Hermione waved her hand, just for show, really. The American Aurors think I'm chasing after a group of ten smugglers who want to sell a mermaid to a Potioneer."

At that, Newt's head jerked up in surprise, "No worries, I caught them weeks ago. The mermaid's been deposited to a Sanctuary where she'll be treated for her injuries."

"How long have you been an Auror?" Queenie asked, looking pointedly at her sister, "Teenie's been one for four years, she was one of the youngest to be accepted, just two years out of Ilvermorny!"

Hermione smiled at the witch, "Only for about six months, I graduated from Beauxbatons in May. I should've started training immediately after, but my mother held me back for a bit. I did a month of training."

She smirked to herself, "Actually, Scamander, I duelled your brother on the first day."

Newt winced, "Sorry for whatever he did to you. He can be a bit heavy handed."

"What?" she laughed, "I had him pinned to the floor in minutes. Theseus never saw it coming. You really should speak to him you know, he has no idea how to talk to witches. I'm very close to blowing my top over his advances."

"You passes the International Auror Training in a _month_?" Tina asked, gobsmacked.

Hermione nodded, "Though I think they quickened my application. The other departments wanted me, you see, I had ten NEWTs."

"T-ten?!" Scamander sputtered.

"It's not a big deal." she said, "I'm a bit of a swot.

"Anyway, I was supposed to head to my mother's friend Mr Oberon Sen, but then I saw you hurrying out of the Ministry and chose to forgo the meeting. He won't be too mad at me, I hope."

"_Oberon Sen_? Elf Ruler-Forest Elf?" asked Newt, brow wrinkling in mirth.

"Yes, I'm afraid we don't have much subtlety." she laughed, "My own name is dreadful. Aine Avery, honestly. It's why we stick to first names. The Fae, for all their supposed beauty, can lack a great deal of creativity."

"You're a fairy?" Newt said in surprise.

"Don't look so shocked, Mr Scamander, you'd offend a witch with that tone. I'm only half, on my mother's side. My father's completely normal."

At that, Kowalski let out a barking laugh, "None of this is normal!"

"Normal for us, then." Hermione amended, chuckling as well.

**a/n: **Okay, yes, I'm biting off more than I can chew. I know I have four WIPs, but this was begging to be written and I have poor impulse control. I wrote this entire chapter in one sitting and I've been sitting here deciding whether or not i should post it already and well, as I said, no impulse control _at all. _Much love you guys, tell me what you think and don't be annoyed I know I'm wracking up a list of stories to finished. I'll get there!


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